


Finding Laurens

by thisprentiss



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/F, Multi, everyone is very gay and alexander is only in it for like five seconds, featuring the laurens interlude bc i needed this story to start somehow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-18 23:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7335328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisprentiss/pseuds/thisprentiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OR six ladies team up to go and break laurens out of a prison in some undisclosed location</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact i love literally every female character that wasn't even featured in hamilton  
> also this might (?) go somewhere, i might continue it i might not. who knows! i just love the hamilton ladies

It was just past midnight; Eliza had put Philip to bed and gone downstairs to look through the mail she hadn't had time to read earlier.

The dining room was dark other than the moonlight streaming through the closed curtains, allowing Eliza enough vision to light a candle and set it down next to her, taking a gentle seat at the table. Most of the mail was garbage; letters from random people thanking Alexander for his service, for helping free the country. Every general was getting letters like this, she knew that well, and tossed them out. _His ego doesn't need to be fed any more than it already has_ _._

She opened one from Peggy, scanning her eyes over it and smiling gently at the flowers drawn at the bottom of the page. Eliza folded it back up and tucked it into the pocket on her dress, making a mental note to put it in the pile upstairs with all of Peggy's other letters with drawings.

The next few were unimportant, and as she felt a yawn escape her, Eliza decided it might be time for her to go to bed soon. And of course, as soon as she thought that, her eyes fell on a name and her heart dropped. _Oh, God._ Her hands were shaking as she picked it up, unfolding the letter and reading over the first few lines. _No, no,_ she thought, and she could tell that tears were welling in her eyes, _this isn't possible, this isn't possible..._

But it was. It was right there in front of her, signed off with some general's name at the bottom. It was real and it was happening and she thought she might have been suffocating, hand clamping down over her own mouth to stop herself from screaming. The letter fell out of her hand, vision blurring, and Eliza dug her nails into the wood of the table, clenching her eyes shut. She took a staggered breath, she couldn't cry, she couldn't do this now.

Forcing herself to take several more deep breaths, Eliza smoothed out her dress and wiped her eyes. And then she picked up the letter again, swallowing and making her way upstairs.

It was dark there too, the only room with light being Alexander's office, and she walked down the hall slowly so not to wake Philip. The door was cracked open; she could hear the scratching of Alexander's quill on paper from outside. He was obviously focused, he was always focused. Focused on writing, focused on reading. For a moment, Eliza considered burning the letter and never telling him of what happened.

But then she came to her senses. He would find out eventually anyway. Better now. _Better from me._ "Alexander?" she asked, pushing into the room. He didn't look up from his desk, but made a noise of confirmation. "There's a letter for you from South Carolina."

"It's from John Laurens, I'll read it later," he said. Brushed it off. Eliza's chin quivered as she took her next breath.

"No," she said, and this time his quill stopped mid sentence, the comforting scratching noise disappearing and leaving them in silence. There was a pause. Eliza blinked slowly, hands tightening around the letter, "It's not."

Alexander turned, setting his quill down beside his papers. He opened his mouth, almost as if he wanted to say something, but then he closed it and shook his head. Eliza took another step toward him, holding out the letter. He gave her a pleading look."Will you read it?" he asked, silently begging _please tell me this isn't what I think it is._

Eliza nodded. She couldn't do anything else. The letter felt heavy in her hands as she unfolded it, clearing her throat and holding her chin high. "On Tuesday the 27th, Lieutenant-Colonel John Laurens was killed in a gunfight against British troops retreating from South Carolina," she began, eyes trained on the paper, "These troops had not yet received word from Yorktown that the war was over. He is buried here until his family can send for his remains. As you may know, Lieutenant-Colonel Laurens was engaged in recruiting three thousand men for the first all black military regiment. The surviving members of this regiment have since been returned to their masters."

She hadn't realized tears were streaming down her cheeks until she had finished reading, letting her arms fall to her sides. Alexander was staring into nothingness. Blank. He wasn't crying. He wasn't reacting at all. Eliza put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Alexander," she asked, "Are you alright?"

He didn't respond, eyes still glazed over and distant. The room was so quiet Eliza could hear the candle flickering from the desk behind her. Then Alexander blinked. And he turned back around to his desk with a shuddering breath.

" _I have so much work to do._ "

 

* * *

 

Eliza hadn't been able to get Alexander to stop working for months since she told him of John Laurens' death. He locked himself in his office and refused to come out for hours at a time, only coming out when he went to class. He always told her he was focusing on his studies, he was going to become a lawyer, the most successful lawyer out there. He _promised_ her.

Always with the promises. Alexander _loved_ to make promises. He loved to swear to things and cross his heart and hold her hands and kiss her and tell her pretty promises she knew were lies. It wasn't as if she didn't still love Alexander. Of course she loved him.

But it was getting too hard.

She started enjoying taking long walks down to the harbor, leaving every time Alexander was in the house, taking baby Philip with her, wrapped in a bundle in her arms as she strolled in the sun. Or... overcast weather, as it was most often. She didn't talk much, unless Angelica met her for lunch or that sort of thing. She had a new caller, Angelica did, and he was a rich gentleman that said he was going to take her travelling to the finest places in Europe.

Eliza felt a sort of envy for her sister and her obviously gay husband John Church. Both of them married for social standing, out of convenience, keeping money with money and both of them out of the romantic gossip pool. And more than once Eliza was invited out drinking with the two of them, some seedy bar in the slums of town where no one remembered enough between their drinks to ever spread any rumors, but she had to decline. _Taking care of Philip,_ she'd told them. Always taking care of Philip.

Until Peggy came to visit, of course, then she was free all hours of the day. Her younger sister was _more_ than delighted to look after baby Philip, bouncing him when he needed to be bounced, playing with him, feeding him. She even wanted to cook. Other than nursing Philip, Eliza was essentially out of jobs that needed to be done at the house.

Which meant her walks out to the harbor got longer and more relaxed. There was no baby hanging off her arm. No responsibilities looming behind her. And the docks were her favorite place to go, watching boats come in and turn around and leave again, dropping off passengers and businessmen and ladies with fancy hats. It brought a smile to her face that hadn't been there for a long time.

And then came the fated day.

Eliza was standing by a large chain by the water on a windy day, watching as a cargo ship unloaded, and was suddenly knocked into from the side. " _Fuck-_ " she screamed, and would have definitely gone plunging head first into the water below if she hadn't been caught around the waist by a pair of _very_ strong arms. Pulled back into a standing position, Eliza straightened out her corset and dress and tried to hide the flustered blush that was spreading on her cheeks, "I- thank you, that would've been- wow, um-"

"It's no problem, ma'am," it was a woman who answered, voice laced with a British accent. Eliza could feel her eyes getting wider. Dark hair fell over brown shoulders speckled with freckles that reminded her of stars, disappearing into a deep green dress. And her stance was casual, one hip cocked out to the side to support a baby with a curly mop of hair. Her eyes were a chestnut color, like freshly polished wood, and her lips - _god_ were those beautiful lips - were curved up into an almost _coy_ smile.

Staring at her, Eliza was completely _speechless_.

But the woman clearly wasn't, though. "Hi, I just got here, off that boat actually. I'm sort of looking for someone in particular, not just a place, but an actual person. You might know him. Are you a local?" she asked, and Eliza blinked for a long time, hoping her mouth wasn't hanging open. Then finally, she nodded.

"Y- yeah, I am. I live right up the way, not too far. Grew up close to here too. I can probably find you whoever you need," she said with a smile. The woman looked pleased.

"Awesome. I'm looking for some chap named Hamilton, Andrew, I believe. I need his help finding my husband," she said plainly, and Eliza could swear her soul left her body in that moment.

"Hamilton? You don't mean..." she braced herself, taking a deep breath, " _Alexander_ Hamilton, right?"

The woman snapped her fingers, grinning and nodding, and Eliza's heart fluttered at the way she pushed her hair behind her ears. "That's the one. Knew it was something with an A. Yeah, I'm looking for Hamilton. You know where he is right now, love?" she asked. Eliza nodded, unable to avoid the slightly disgusted look on her face.

"I do. Yes. He's my husband," she said, and the woman's mouth turned into an o, eyes going wide. "He'll be at home right now, class ended about an hour ago. But I'm not sure he'll be much help finding your husband right now, he's... in mourning. And working. Non stop."

"Oh, that's awful," the woman said, shaking her head, and Eliza held out an elbow for her to link her arm in. Once she had, the two women set off toward the Hamilton residence, Eliza leading the way. "I never caught your name, by the way. I'm Martha Manning."

Eliza smiled, nodding, "Elizabeth Schuyler-Hamilton, it's a pleasure to meet you. And... I hope you don't mind me asking, but is there any chance you could tell me who your husband is? Or... why would Alexander be any help finding him?"

"No problem, love, no problem at all," Martha smiled, bouncing Francis further up on her hip, "Alexander would be a great help because I know he's my husband's best friend. If anybody knows where that bastard is, it'll be him. God, I heard about him in every letter I got, Alexander this, Alexander that, blah blah blah, it got real tedious after a while. Anyway, yeah. My husband's name is Jack- oh, sorry, _John_ Laurens, you probably know him."

Eliza stopped dead in her tracks, heart freezing. "John Laurens?" she asked, and Martha made a noise of confirmation, "Oh, Martha, I'm so sorry. John- he was killed a few months ago in a gunfight just after the war ended. He's- your husband is dead, I'm so sorry."

If Eliza had expected any reaction, it wasn't that Martha would roll her eyes. "Dead? Oh, Jesus Mary and Joseph. Love, he's not dead. He's very much alive."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o shit waddup i cant wait until i actually get this story rolling and stop dealing with the whole 'before they leave' shit

The house was dead quiet when Eliza walked in with Martha and Francis.

"Peggy?" she called, cautiously walking into the living room, "Alexander? Anyone home?" When there was no answer, she sighed and closed the door, gesturing to the couch. "Sit, please, I'm sorry I'm such an awful host. Alexander is probably upstairs, I can get him. Would you like some tea?"

Martha shook her head, bouncing Francis on her knee with a smile. "It's perfectly fine, love. You take your time," she said. Eliza took the stairs two at a time, barging into Alexander's office without even knocking first. Of course, she was barely surprised to see that he wasn't in there, papers strewn all over the room. Sighing, Eliza walked back down and gave Martha a half annoyed-half sad look. "I take it he ain't up there?"

"Not there. Not anywhere, I don't think. When he's not in his office he's making a ruckus elsewhere, and... well, the house is quiet. He must still be out. And Peggy seems to be gone too. With my baby. I'm such a mess, I'm sorry," Eliza said, sitting down on the chair opposite the couch. Martha only laughed, bouncing Francis once again with a cooing noise.

"You're no mess, you're alright. But I do gotta say, time is... a little of the essence in this situation. If we want my bastard of a husband to stay alive - which we do, I think - then Andrew-"

"Alexander."

"Yeah, yeah, Alexander - he'd better get home real soon," she finished, and Eliza tilted her head.

"Sorry, but... _where_ exactly is John- your husband?" she asked, "We received a letter several months ago that said he'd been killed by British troops in South Carolina. His family hadn't yet picked up his remains. But you're telling me he's _alive?_ Why would we be lied to about that? It doesn't make any sense."

Martha stared for a long while at Eliza, letting Francis play with her curls, until she finally licked her lips. "I reckon they told that to everybody. It's a failsafe, really. John's in a prison - hospital, asylum, whatever you wanna call it - somewhere real creepy. I don't know where, but I'm working on figuring it out. That's why I needed Alexander's help," she said, and then she was handing Francis over to Eliza and fishing through a bag she'd brought with her, "Here, look."

"What's this?" Eliza asked, turning the half-burnt letter in her hands. Martha nodded at her once she'd taken Francis back, encouraging her to open it. So she did, unfolding the brittle paper and scanning her eyes over the words. It was messy, frightened, several words crossed out hastily as if whoever was writing it had very little time to do so. Phrases like ' _trapped_ ' and ' _dark_ ' jumped out at her; the writer was being held captive. Her eyes fell on something red smeared across the bottom, and scrawled right above the stain was the name _Jack L._

_John Laurens._

"This is from John," she said in awe, "He really is alive."

"What, did you think I was joking or something? I got this last week and came here right away to look for him. You read the letter, he's in a lotta fucked up trouble. Doesn't know where he is, but he knows the government's behind it," Martha said, taking back the letter and folding it up. Francis made a squeaking baby noise.

"That's why they told us he was dead. So we wouldn't be looking for him," Eliza said, realization dawning, "Which means Alexander or I must _definitely_ know where this place is."

"Bingo," Martha snapped as she said this, making Francis giggle, "You got any ideas yet? If you do, I'd love to avoid an awkward chat with your husband and just get right on the road."

Eliza, awkward, rubbed her hands up and down her lap, shrugging, "I- well, I'm not sure. Can I see the letter again?" It was handed back over. "Okay, so... um..."

_marhta help im trapp ed i ne di help plsease alex might knowe wher e i am tell him th at its dark an d it s hoT its so fuckign hot and wet and there was an alligator martha help youre the only address i have memoriezed just find alex hamilton and tell him th at im being held hostage i love you im os so sorry_

_and don't trust anyone_

"Don't trust anyone. Well, it... it seems like he's definitely in distress. He probably had to sneak this letter out. And don't trust anyone," Eliza said, reading over the letter several more times, "He wouldn't say that for no reason. If we were worried about him, but we'd already been told he was dead so we were low on resources, who would we go to? Who do we trust?" The silent question was there, _who would Alexander trust._

Then it hit her. "Washington. Washington has to be involved," she said, shaking her head. "That son of a bitch."

"We can talk about betrayed trust later, love, where do you think John might be?" Martha interrupted, giving Eliza a long encouraging, if a bit creepy, stare. "Any of that sound familiar?"

"Well the... the hot and wet could be anywhere. He doesn't know where he is, otherwise he probably would have told us, so that means he's never been there before. Or he was knocked out when they brought him in," she sighed, rubbing her temple with two knuckles, "This is hopeless. It could be a million places." She glared at the letter for another moment, blinking to try and sort out the details. "Alligator? He says he saw an alligator, look at that."

"I know, I read that part a thousand times. Don't know what in the bloody hell it means," Martha said, wincing when Francis pulled on her hair.

"Hot and wet, and there's an alligator. Hang on a second," Eliza said, and before Martha could protest, she was setting the letter on the side table and dashing up the stairs into Alexander's office.

There were boxes of letters, labelled with friend's names, coworker's names, some unmarked, but Eliza dug through them until she found one labelled _John Laurens_ with a little turtle drawn next to the name. _Obviously drawn by John, Alexander may be a good writer, but he's an awful artist._

She dragged it out in front of her and flopped down on the floor, beginning to dig through the letters in search of a particular piece of special green parchment. At last, when she found it, she almost let out a yelp of joy, running back down to Martha with it clutched in her hand. "I knew wet and hot and alligators sounded familiar! Alexander and our friend Lafayette visited a Spanish colony down below Georgia back when the war was just barely starting, John sent Alexander a letter on some fancy green parchment and they sent it back and forth until it was full!"

Martha looked dumbfounded. "Alright, that's lovely and all, but what's that got to do with where Jack is?"

"Listen," Eliza said, holding up the letter, " _My dearest Alexander, I am warm in my gratitude for your hasty response to this letter, and I would love to inquire as to the quality of your venture to this mysterious location General Washington would not disclose? And when will I be permitted to send my letters directly to you without having to send them to a camp first? With love, Laurens._ And then Alexander responds, _my dear Laurens, it is with the greatest pleasure that I can tell you I am absolutely despising this expedition. It does not seem as if the people here are willing to help aid our revolution in the slightest. Washington will be upset, I know this, therefore it is putting a great damper on the mood of Lafayette and myself._ "

"I'm still not seeing it-"

"Just _shush!_ " Eliza snapped, glaring, " _However, in regards to the atmosphere and quality of life, it is quite pleasant. I have never been fond of reminders of home, and here it is hot, so fucking hot, and wet. And I saw an alligator!_ Boom. Hear that?"

Martha stared at John's letter for a moment, thinking about what Eliza had read, and then her mouth fell open. "Almost the exact same words."

"John must've remembered what Alexander said about La Florida but didn't know what to call it since he didn't know!" Eliza exclaimed, "It all makes sense! He knew Alexander would recognize the description and he had no idea how else to describe it!"

"So he's being held hostage in La Florida?" Martha asked, tilting her head. Eliza was about to answer when she realized that the front door had opened and there were footsteps approaching.

"Who's being held hostage in La Florida?"


End file.
